Chapter Text
Peter Parker wasn’t a stranger to weird urges.
Before the spider bite, it’d just been the small things, like how he felt the need to bite his cookies into a circular pattern as he ate it. The urge to count the number of seconds passed as he sipped on a straw. It was like scratching a little itch in the back of the back of his brain.
And Peter recognized that those itches got stronger and more plentiful after the bite, some more noticeable than others, and some he only noticed when other people had to point them out. MJ had been the first one to point out how he’d gotten much more… obsessive, when it came to his living space. It wasn’t even like he was a clean person, but as soon as he saw something out of place that he didn’t remember moving, something in his brain told him to put it back, do an entire perimeter search of the area, and go through every single item he owns just to make sure everything else was where it should be. Did he tidy up at all during the process? No, but as long as he knows where everything is at all times, he'll be okay.
And again, MJ had been the one to point out his newfound aversion to strangers. Yeah, he’d always been the awkward quiet type, but he’d never just outright disliked someone just because they glanced in the direction of him or his friends. It wasn't that Peter became rude, or quick to anger (or at least, that's what MJ and Harry said to reassure him), it was just that he looked more uncomfortable, came off as more purposefully shut down-ish in conversations when before he’d just been casually socially inept. Peter hadn’t even realized until Harry and MJ said something, that he’s– he’s wary of people. It’s not social anxiety, but actual, genuine I need to be on guard at all times just in case this person hurts us. It was the urge to protect his tiny group of friends. The urge to ward everyone else away, because everyone else was a potential threat.
He thought he'd gotten better, noticing when he's doing something that he didn't used to before and adjusting accordingly, but those moments are far and inbetween when it’s been literal years since discovering a new side effect of the bite. There were fluctuations of existing traits, sure– like that time he went out during first snow, before he’d designed his heat regulating winter suit, fully aware that he had somewhat of a poor thermoregulation system, and had soon found out after slamming into a building and then straight into a frost covered dumpster that yes, poor thermoregulation, given enough time, will develop into a human equivalent of diapause and leave him near frozen in an abandoned alleyway until noon the next day.
The point was that Peter didn’t think there was anything else. He thought that all of the horrifying mutations and unexpected discoveries had ended years ago. He thought that he’d known everything there was to know–at least everything significant.
So, naturally, Peter didn't notice the changes at first.
From the start, Peter had held a natural affinity towards Miles. The teen’s energetic personality and overall charisma made it hard not to like him, and Peter could tell right away that the kid was practically born to be with people. He was made for his community, really. And not only did he have a natural love for learning just like Peter, but he had a love for helping people, too. Peter had caught himself thinking on more than one occasion, before his bite, that Miles would end up changing the world someday even without mutant abilities or superpowers.
Peter may or may not have felt a tiny sense of obligation towards him and his family that'd been bred from the guilt of being totally useless during the attack that’d resulted in his dad’s death. But even so, Miles had positively thrived at F.E.A.S.T, and it’s only taken a week or two for him to have been fluttering around the building, serving people, helping May, laughing, talking, joking with the people Peter had never even been able to hold a conversation with. It was a horrible mixture of elation at seeing Miles so happy after he’d only ever seen him at his lowest, and extreme guilt at the fact that he was the one who took that happiness away from him in the first place.
Then, when Peter had met him as Spider-Man, (had watched as he stayed behind in a burning building just to help save May, then went back in to save Spider-Man) even still, the boy had been elated to see him. Even after Spider-Man couldn’t save his dad, even after Spider-Man never even made an appearance at the bombing or its aftermath. All genuine smiles and uncontained excitement coming through the form of his excessive rambling and large gestures– and he was so brave where Peter definitely wouldn’t have been after losing Ben, where he still isn’t, and Peter has just never really met a kid like Miles.
It’s just one of those things, Peter thinks, where someone sees something so positively filled with good that they think that, in the moment, they’d do anything to watch that good thing grow and spread its brightness to the rest of the world.
And Miles was bright. It was a little like looking straight into the sun, actually, whenever the boy gets on one of his excited tangents, gesturing like he needs to act everything out in order to relay the full experience of what he’s saying, and maybe that light has caused significant damage to his retinas because Peter feels himself want to tear up everytime that raw enthusiasm is directed towards him– or, Spider-Man– of all people, the same one who had maybe essentially indirectly caused the death of the kid’s father.,
The point is that the admiration he’d held for the younger boy was natural back then, a side effect of Miles’ bright personality and charisma, along with him just being a great person in general. He was a little protective of him, sure, being that the first two times he’d met Miles, he’d just been a young boy suffering through the traumatic loss of a parental figure– just like Peter had when he’d lost Uncle Ben.
Peter had already known that Miles was a hero of some sort– born and bred, with or without the powers. So when Miles did end up gaining mutant abilities and superpowers, there was no reason for Peter’s gentle respect for him to change. Sure, that admiration had grown a little when he saw how quickly he took to being Spider-Man, and how his natural ability to absorb information and eagerness to learn all led to him be an amazing student and an even better hero-in-training.
But nothing, absolutely nothing, facilitated what was going on right now.
He didn’t really acknowledge the anxiety at first. It was their third month into training, and with school being in, he’d only been allowing Miles to train two or three days a week. He’s doing a little mix of everything now, swinging, sparring, analysis practice (long essays about hypothetical crimes and math worksheets on pendulums), so it makes sense that Peter would be just a little worried. Afterall, he’s taking Rio’s kid out, without her knowledge, to swing into the jarring empty space between two skyscrapers, along with teaching him the best ways to diffuse hostage situations and take on armed gunmen. It makes Peter feel a little nervous, too, seeing the boy dive headfirst towards the concrete. At least… he’s pretty sure he’s nervous about it.
That answer would make a lot more sense than the constant buzz he’s been getting in the back of his head whenever he thinks about Miles being away from him for those few days of the week.
It’s not a physical mental sense, like his Spidey Sense, so Peter chalks it up to plain ol’ anxiety. He’s just a little nervous, because what if Miles goes out and tries to practice by himself, and gets hurt? Yeah, that sounds right. That’s what all the late nights unable to sleep and tossing and turning are all about.
Except–
He’s not really worried about that.
It’s a genuine concern, yes, because Peter’s definitely prepared to find out Miles has snuck out without him once or twice, because that’s just the kind of over eager kid he is. But the anxiety doesn’t stem from whenever Miles takes a leap off the building, or when he thinks about Miles being out and about as Spider-Man alone– It’s something much more specific than that.
It takes a while for Peter to pinpoint where the weird anxiety is coming from, and it happens all in a single night. That day had been particularly grueling, mostly for Miles, as Peter pushed him to the limits with practicing his agility and reflexes. There’d been a few close calls when the younger had missed with his web shooter mid-swing, and fell a little too close to the ground for Peter’s liking.
By the time the clock hit 1am, they were both worn out.
Peter didn’t think too much about it when he’d asked it. “Are you hungry?”
Miles looked at him quizzically, the mask's eyes squinting a bit. “Is anything open? It’s pretty late.” He was sitting on the ledge of the roof, turning back a little to face Peter, who’d been leaning against the wall of the fire escape.
“Well, yeah, a few places.” He smiled. “One of the many jobs of Spider-Man includes getting intimately familiar with the closing times of every restaurant in the city.”
Miles laughed. “I guess I am a little hungry, then. I didn’t eat dinner before I left, and I was kind of dreading having to go home and fix something this late.” He got up, stretching his arms high over his head, oblivious to Peter’s reaction to the comment. “What did you have in mind?”
It was Peter’s turn to squint his eyes now. “You haven’t eaten?”
The younger rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly, knowing immediately that he was in trouble. “I mean, I ate lunch at school, yeah.”
Peter could feel that strange anxiety start to creep up the back of his neck. “So that was at what, twelve?”
“Twelve-thirty.”
“Miles.”
“I know, I know. I just thought that we’d get done a bit sooner.”
Peter frowned, realizing he didn’t tell Miles when they’d be finishing. They never really set an exact time, and Peter had just been going until he saw signs of fatigue. It made his heart pound a little, knowing he’d just worked the 15 year old to the bone for 4 hours straight after an eight hour fast. He chalked up the palpitations to guilt, and sought to remedy it.
“I’m sorry, Miles. I should’ve told you when we were stopping for today. And I should’ve made sure you’d eaten something beforehand.”
Miles’ hand fell down to his side. “Hey, it’s not like I asked you how long we’d be out here, or told you I was hungry.” An arm wrapped around his middle as he spoke. “I’m kind of starving, actually. What did you say was open?”
The beating of Peter’s heart was loud in his ears. His anxiety spiked, and so did his Spidey-Sense. It wasn’t the feeling of immediate danger, but more of the feeling that something bad was happening already that needed to be fixed now. Peter could hear it now, his senses heightening along with his inner turmoil, the faint sound of Miles’ stomach growling with hunger.
His Spidey-Sense was persistent, telling him to do something, right now, and to hurry before it’s too late, hurry, hurry, hurry, hurry–
He walked to the edge of the roof, trying to feign casualty.
“There’s a pizza place down the block, and a Mexican bar that makes some pretty good enchiladas. Then there’s that new Greek deli that just opened…” he trailed off, looking at Miles for any input. The teen was staring right back at him, fidgeting with his web shooters.
“Uh, yeah, the pizza sounds good. Are you… okay? I’m sorry for not eating, I’ll make sure to have dinner before coming out from now on.” Miles’ voice sounded hesitant, and Peter rushed to reassure him.
“Yes, Miles, I’m fine. It was my fault, I should’ve been paying better attention. Thank you for telling me that.” He was usually really good when it came to reminding Miles about his nutritional needs, so why did he fail this time?
Peter suddenly realized that the lack of food may have been the cause of all those missed shots, and felt his heartbeat increase once more. It felt like there were a million tiny spiders screaming in his head, telling him to act on something he wasn’t even sure what, and he had to fight to keep his breath even. He was not about to do this in front of his protégé.
Your fault. Your fault. You’re gonna get him killed, one day.
Peter blinked heavily at the intrusive thoughts. Usually, when he felt guilty about failing to help someone, it was always accompanied with thoughts of his Uncle Ben’s murder. But this time, it wasn’t at all. This didn’t have anything to do with his weird 'savior complex' (as MJ liked to call it).
His skin crawled with the urge to move, to be productive.
He was wasting time, he had to hurry. Hurry, hurry, move! Before it’s too late!
“Pete?” Miles’ voice sounded small. Peter’s spidey-sense spiked.
“Yeah. Let’s–Let’s go.”
By the time they’d gotten the pizza, it was almost 2am. Peter had just been planning on calling the place and telling them to leave the pizza outside somewhere, but one of the employees had come outside to take out the trash. Almost immediately he caught sight of both Spider-Men perched on some streetlights, and he’d rushed in to tell his boss. One very long, and very enthusiastic conservation about pizza later (seriously, how did Miles manage to befriend complete strangers so quickly?) and they were both sitting on a rooftop a few blocks away with three deep dish pizzas, two containers of breadsticks, and a box of cinnamon twists in hand.
“Okay, maybe I shouldn’t have let him talk me into giving me all this.”
Peter snorted. “Yeah, only that and a lifetime supply of free food from any of their locations in the United States, along with a permanent discount for up to 3 family members or friends, and a free hoodie.” Miles, who’d just been in the middle of unfolding said hoodie to see what it looked like, immediately brought it back down to his lap.
“You saw how I tried to say no, he had me completely cornered back there!” He reached up to take his mask off, glaring at Peter with faux annoyance. “And It’s not like you were rushing to my aid, either, dude.” Peter chuckled, lifting the top of the pizza box.
“Of course not, and pass up an opportunity for discounted pizza? My wallet needs every penny it can get, here, Miles.”
“Wha- it was my discount!”
Peter gasped, whipping a hand over his heart in mock disbelief. “Do I not count as a family member slash friend? I’m hurt. I'll never recover from this betrayal.”
They both laughed, and Miles spoke up.
“But actually though, I don’t think I’m gonna use it. I mean, I don’t want to take any kind of retribution people give me just for helping people who need help.”
Peter smiled softly. “That’s a good ideology to have, Miles.” He stared at the teen as he watched him pick up a slice of pizza in anticipation.
Yes, yes, perfect, perfect!
He was no longer in a hurry– meaning that whatever the danger was, it was no longer present. Well, it was present, but not really a danger anymore, if that made any sense.
But aside from that, Peter had been wanting to talk to Miles about something for a while now.
“Y’know…” Peter started, his voice quiet. “He definitely wouldn’t have given all that stuff to me, if I’d asked for it.”
Miles tensed, quickly swallowing his bite. “Sorry, I–um…” He didn’t get to finish as Peter interrupted him.
"You’re an amazing kid, Miles. Anyone can see it, even with the mask on. You’ve got things that I don’t–things that’ll make you a better Spider-Man than I could ever be.”
Miles frowned. “Hey man, don’t say that. It’s–”
“It’s a great thing, Miles. Your love for your community, the way you just instantly connect with people. I just want you to know that you don’t need to downplay the gratitude you get for being you. For helping people the way you do.”
Peter wanted the teen to realize that the man hadn't given him all that stuff just because he was Spider-Man, but because he'd seen Miles' character and had wanted to do something nice for him. Sure, the owner had given Peter a free pizza before, 6 years ago when he’d still been perceived as a kid by the public, stumbling into the man's shop half beaten to death by a huge group of drug dealers, limping inside only because the man on the phone had insisted that no, they couldn't do deliveries (he’d just asked them to bring the box outside for him), only to be immediately shooed out due to the ruckus he’d caused amongst the guests. The owner had taken pity on him then, silently pushing away the measly $10 bill Peter had tried to hand him.
He never received free pizza again after that, but granted–he'd also never bothered to strike up any lasting conversation with the man like Miles had– just awkward comments about the weather that’d earned him glares every time.
Peter knew enough about social interactions to know that connections were made by people who actually put in the effort to make them. Peter knew that that's why he’s only made two friends out of his twenty three years of life. Especially after the Bite, he’d been less and less inclined to increase his tiny circle of people. But evidently, Miles seemed to be the exact opposite. His ability to forge natural, lasting connections with people carried on into the suit, and Peter didn’t want him to try and stifle it just because of Peter’s own (sad, anti-social) lifestyle.
Miles responded before he could verbalize his thoughts, speaking hesitantly as if he wasn’t really sure what was going on.
“Yeah… I still don’t get it. What are you talking about, dude?” He picked up another slice of pizza, having devoured his last one during Peter’s nonsensical impromptu speech and then long, self-reflecting silence. Peter zeroed in on it, his brain screeching tiny little symphonies.
Yipee! Yipee!!
Peter couldn’t blame the teen’s confusion, as he himself was a little on the fritz. His anxiety was gone, but now he felt like he was kind of in a daze. He could feel his mind trying to hyperfocus on a single thing–that being the food–and it was getting difficult to pay attention to anything else around him.
“Peter.”
Oh right, they were in an active conversation. He took a deep breath and tried to shake the spiders out of his ears.
“You have a lot of love for your community, Miles, and the people of New York can tell. The things you get out of it, that’s just the community’s way of giving back to you, solely because you make an effort to give to them. I want you to cherish that.”
Now, Miles’ face scrunched in confusion. “But you’re into the whole community thing too, aren’t you? People give stuff to you all the time, and you never accept any of it.”
“But I don’t talk to them like you do. I don’t– I can’t really…” He trailed off, frustrated that he wasn’t getting the words out. It’s not that Peter wasn’t prepared for this conversation. He was– had been thinking about it for a while. He doesn’t want Miles to fall down that path he did when he refused praise or gratitude up until he felt like nothing he did was ever good enough. Even now, all he ever does is reflect over his flaws without acknowledging his accomplishments, and even knowing that he does this, he still doesn’t see much wrong with it. He’s just keeping himself humble, afterall. Telling himself that he doesn’t need validation or praise or approval or general kindness because that’s not why he’s doing this.
But when Miles made a comment like that a few weeks ago, and Peter imagined Miles thinking the kinds of things he thinks about himself, he couldn’t take it. He couldn’t imagine Miles stifling any good part about himself just to bring himself down the way Peter does. He wants Miles to stay humble, of course, but not by Peter’s radical, self-defined sense of the word.
Maybe this entire sentiment would be better relayed when he wasn’t having borderline debilitating thoughts about webbing up the now half empty box of pizza to store for later.
A pigeon cooed from a nearby ledge, and Peter tried his best to not let his aggravation show. This wasn’t its pizza. This was for him and Miles! Peter swears if that pigeon flies over here then they’re gonna need an extra plate because as soon as he gets his hands on it he's gonna–
“Dude!”
Conversation! Right. Words, he needs words.
“You’re good, Miles, okay? Don’t downplay yourself. Appreciate when people appreciate you. Acknowledge it when others acknowledge you. You don’t have to brush off the good that people give you by saying ‘It was only expected of me’, because it’s not. Okay? The people love you– way more than they did when I was your age– and it’s for a reason that you should definitely acknowledge.” There, done.
Miles sighed. “And what is that reason?”
“You’re amazing.”
“That’s not–.” Miles ran a hand down his face, before looking back up at him, eyes flickering across the expanse of his mask. “Are you okay?”
Peter looked back up at him from where he was glaring holes into the slices of pizza. “Yeah, I’m fine. Why?”
Miles looked as if he was treading carefully. “You haven’t even taken off your mask, man. Aren’t you gonna eat?”
Eat? Him? Why would he eat when Miles was the one who said he was hungry? Peter ate last night. He needed to make sure there was enough to last them the next few days, at least.
Before Peter could respond, Miles went on. “And you seem a little, uh… distracted? Is there something wrong?”
Peter wordlessly slipped off his mask, picking up a slice. He tried to force a grin onto his face.
“No, of course not.”
The rest of the night went by fine, albeit a little shakily, as they ate through a box and half and chatted about nothing in particular. It was during that time that Peter had slowly come to the realization of what this behavior was about, but he’d decided to put off any thoughts about it until he’d gotten back to his apartment.
Peter, as they were gathering everything to get ready to leave, had given in and satiated his urge to wrap up the food in a rather thick case of webbing– which left Miles gaping at the what seemed to be pure waste of webbing as the artificial substance turned the rectangular shaped box into a near ovular sphere, protesting ‘What if my mom sees it?’, and ‘Will this even dissolve all the way?’ to which Peter gave the non-committal replies of ‘Do you want our food to fall out of their boxes mid-swing?’ and ‘Just rip it off when you get home’.
While they were swinging, Peter had another urge. He couldn’t place what it was at the moment, but he definitely knew it was something else pertaining to his other odd behaviors throughout the night. He couldn’t stop thinking about the missed shots earlier, and how Miles was just so unprotected and vulnerable to attack swinging around like that. The birds were everywhere. If he could just come a little closer to Peter, maybe even–
He narrowly dodged swinging face first into a billboard, zipping to the side just as his Spidey-sense tingled.
He didn’t let his thoughts stray for the rest of the way back to his apartment.